


Sexy Times With Bill

by margaret_sexnose



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c., Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, I’ve never watched supernatural and I don’t live in america but my brain is ~fizzy~, M/M, Oral Sex, Oval Office, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, god i wish i was sorry, this is so stupid i hate it here hfhffhsbgd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaret_sexnose/pseuds/margaret_sexnose
Summary: Bill Clinton gives Misha Collins a blowjob in the Oval Office and I wonder why God put us on this earth to suffer.
Relationships: Bill Clinton/Misha Collins
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	Sexy Times With Bill

**Author's Note:**

> my brain is fizzy like a cola. I did not proofread this. I didn’t see a reason to view it any more than I had to

Bill’s looking at him the way he always looks at him before he’s going to do something unreasonably stupid. Misha knows, he knows they’ve got to be making a speech in less than ten minutes, but somehow he can’t bring himself to gather his bag and get the hell out of there before said stupid thing happens - it’s something about Bill. It’s something about the twinkle in his eye.

“We need to be going,” Misha reminds him tentatively, holding onto that twinkling look like there isn’t another place in the world he can look. “We need to, Bill. We’re going to be late.”  
“We aren’t going to be late, Misha. Have you ever known me to be late?”  
He hasn’t. Misha’s searching for excuses, any silly excuse he can pull out of the air for some god-forsaken reason; it’s not like he doesn’t want him. He’ll never not want him, but his heart is racing in his chest like he’s going to mug someone or jump out of a plane.

A knock on the door.  
“Five minutes before you’ve got to leave, Mr. President!”  
Bill’s still looking at Misha with that stupid little twinkle that lingers behind Misha’s eyes like a TV set repeating an image over and over every time he tries to go to sleep. The utter bastard.  
“Well. Looks as though you have four minutes to come.”

It’s like magic; suddenly Misha’s backed up against the wall, pinned like he’s a piece of art and Bill’s kneeling before him at just the correct height to… well. He wouldn’t like to comment.

Luckily he doesn’t have to, as that’s the moment that Bill unbuttons the front of Misha’s trousers and palms the growing hard-on that he’s nursing.   
“Maybe less than four minutes,” he grins. Misha shuts his eyes and breathes a nervous laugh.  
“What- what if someone-?”  
“They won’t,” says Bill calmly, mouth pressed to his dick, hot breath sending electric spasms up his torso. “No one’s coming in, Misha. You can just relax and enjoy this, hm? Why don’t you just shut that pretty mouth and focus on mine?”

He’s got a point.

When Bill’s thumbs hook in the waistband of Misha’s pants and pull them down around his thighs, Misha stifles a gasp in the crook of his elbow and bucks his hips up. Bill lets out a chuckle.  
“Easy, tiger. If you do that when I’m actually sucking you off you’re gonna make me choke and then who knows who’s gonna come and interrupt us? Endangering the life of the president? Criminal offence, lover boy.” He kisses the tip and Misha lets out a low whine. He’s fully hard by now, and the sight of the President of the United States of America kneeling between his legs with his mouth on his cock is almost enough to make him come on the spot.

When he slides his mouth down halfway Misha tips his head back against the wall and pushes his hand into Bill’s hair. It feels illegal. It feels like a sin. 

“If there is some kind of superhell, I’m going,” he breathes, trying to crack a pitiful joke. Bill hums a response around his dick and he gasps in shock. Christ, it feels so fucking good. It all feels good, it all feels, so, so good. He shouldn’t fucking be here, and that thought alone is an absolutely insane turn-on.

“Bill,” he whines. “Oh, fuck, oh Bill…”  
He’s pretty. He’s so pretty, on his knees, worshipping him like an angel, something supernatural. Something not of this world.

Bill sucks, hard, and Misha comes just as hard with a badly muffled groan released into his arm. He’s shaking, his knees barely holding him up, and Bill - the absolute bastard - has swallowed it all like a fucking neat tequila. He rises, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, grinning all over his face and looking at Misha cheerfully through dark lashes.   
“Hope you’re good at acting,” he says nonchalantly, and glides out of the Oval Office with a wink in his general direction. 

Misha closes his pants as fast as he can and, with a final glance around the abandoned office, exits as fast as he can. He’ll never not want Bill. Bill will never not want him. It’s a rollercoaster he never wants to get off.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not capable of reasonable thought probably


End file.
